‘Some people are here with a dog.’ Sneaky bastards. Gazing over the treetops at the drifting smoke, I weighed my options.

‘Do you want them to leave?’ asked Warren.

I’d almost forgotten he was there. ‘I want their dog to leave, that’s for sure.’

‘No worries. We can take care of it.’ His voice boomed out: ‘Platoon! Eyes front! I’ve got an announcement!’

Shaun agreed to shift Wednesday’s raft-making exercise. It would be in the morning instead of the afternoon—and on the beach instead of the jetty.

His decision transformed the parade ground. Suddenly boys were running around like ants. They were sent off to fetch nails and hammers from the poultry shed. Planks and tubs from the boat-house. Rope from Shaun’s hut. Paddles from Joe’s. Jake was the only kid who wasn’t let loose. He stayed right next to Shaun until Rhys dumped one end of a plank on his shoulder. ‘I’ll take the other end,’ said Rhys.

I was kept busy unlocking doors. But after about fifteen minutes, the frantic activity stopped. I turned and saw all the kids lined up in their sections, toting tubs or planks or tools. Sam was wearing a bucket on his head.

‘If it was me,’ Warren murmured in my ear, ‘and I saw a herd of screaming teenagers heading in my direction with hammers and rope, I think I’d take my picnic elsewhere, don’t you?’

Then Shaun shouted a command, and everyone marched off. There was a lot of noise. I smiled when I thought about Baldy and Beer Gut and Sarong Girl. They would probably pack up as soon as they heard Flynn squealing about his latest insect bite.

‘Don’t pat the dog!’ I yelled, though the boys couldn’t hear. The last thing I wanted was for Corky to start making friends with them. We would never get rid of her if she did.

I still had supplies to put away. But I also had to make a pit stop, so instead of heading straight for the kitchen, I took a detour. And when I reached my back door, I was lucky. Lucky I’d been near a mangrove swamp. Lucky I had to clean my boots on the mat.

Lucky I looked down.

The nails were brand new and gleaming. That was why I saw them—two of them, their points rising from a crack between the floorboards. Someone had crawled under my house and pushed the nails through my chinky old wooden floor, just near the back entrance, where I was almost guaranteed to step on them.

If they’d been rusty, I don’t think I would have noticed them in time.

2009

2009